


Where There's Smoke

by soulless_lover



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Ciel Is A Brat, Domestic Discipline, Gen, Non-Consensual Spanking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulless_lover/pseuds/soulless_lover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ciel finds a cigarette whilst nicking some late-night sweets from the kitchens and decides to give smoking a try. Sebastian is <i>not amused</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where There's Smoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



The kitchen was dark when Ciel pushed open the door and slipped through; by the light of his small oil lamp, he could see the glass cake dish he’d been looking for, and went to it. Setting the lamp down on the island, he lifted the heavy cut-glass dome and there they were: the delectable lemon squares Sebastian had served for elevenses, so perfect and yellow and dusted with powdered sugar. He’d been quite annoyed when he’d only been allowed to eat one, despite the fact that there were obviously more – it was _his_ house, right? Shouldn’t he be allowed to eat as much as he wanted of whatever he wanted? Not to mention the fact that everyone, including Sebastian - _especially_ Sebastian! – was always pointing out how small and thin he was; shouldn’t they be glad he was eating more than usual? Shouldn’t they even _encourage_ him to indulge his appetite every now and then? How was he to ever grow at all if he didn’t feed his body? Honestly!

He took two of the lemon squares and wrapped them in the handkerchief he’d brought specifically for that purpose, and was just about to pick up the lamp and head back to his rooms... and then he spotted it, lying on the countertop looking perfectly innocuous and fascinating: a cigarette. It was no doubt Bard’s, given that the would-be chef was the only one in the house who smoked, and had probably been left behind after he’d helped Sebastian tidy up the kitchen for the evening; struck by a sudden curiosity, Ciel picked it up and examined it. 

It was surprisingly neatly rolled and didn’t have the usual battered look about it that Bard’s cigarettes tended to have when Ciel saw them dangling from the man’s lip; it hadn’t been lit and didn’t have the telltale dark spot on the end, so it hadn’t been in Bard’s mouth, either. Ciel supposed the chef had rolled it and then had simply forgotten where he’d left it or something – and it wasn’t likely that he’d come looking for it. On a whim, the Earl tucked it into the breast pocket of his nightshirt and picked up the lamp, then hurried back upstairs before his annoyingly ill-timed butler could find him and interrupt his plans.

Once he was safely back in his bedroom, he set the bundle of sweets on the bed and took off his dressing-gown and slippers, tossing the former over the foot of the bed and kicking the latter off to the side; climbing up onto the bed, he opened the handkerchief and began to munch one of the pilfered lemon bars while he examined the cigarette a bit more and thought.

Ciel had never smoked a cigarette in his entire life and had never had any desire to – although Lau had once offered him a drag from his pipe, which Sebastian hadn’t been happy about – but for some reason, he just… Well. He didn’t know. Smoking was not good for those with lung problems, and asthma definitely counted as such – but he hadn’t had a fit of asthma in a long time, and didn’t think a few puffs from a single cigarette would do him much harm. He realized it was childish of him to think of such a thing as being an adult activity, especially since he’d seen boys younger than himself in the East End smoking – but he kind of, sort of, _really_ wanted to try it, just for the experience, and wasn’t growing up all about gaining experience? 

He set aside the remainder of the lemon square, brushed the powdered sugar from his hand, and opened the night-table drawer; reaching in, he withdrew the small box of matches he kept there to light his bedside lamp with, took out a match, and after a moment’s consideration, struck it. The match flared, the orange light of the flame illuminating his slightly shaking hand; he put one end of the cigarette into his mouth and touched the flame to the other; at first he couldn’t understand why it didn’t seem to be lighting properly, but then he realized he had to inhale to draw the flame into the paper – and then he coughed. A lot. The match had burnt down quickly, and the boy swore as he shook the flame out and blew on his slightly-burnt fingers; after a moment, he realized he didn’t have an ashtray or anything to put the hot match into, and he knew better than to just set it down, even if it wasn’t exactly lit – he’d scorched the top of his bedside-table by doing just that the first time he’d lit his bedside reading lamp, and he really didn’t want to hear Sebastian lecture him over it again. After casting about for a while, he finally decided to dispose of the match in the glass of water on the night-table, which he also supposed would make a satisfactory place to flick the hot ashes as the cigarette burned down.

He swore again when he realized said cigarette had gone out, then got another match and lit it again… and coughed again. It was some comfort that he didn’t burn himself that time, but he couldn’t seem to get the hang of actually smoking the damned cigarette; every time he inhaled the smoke, he coughed, and at one point he had to cover his mouth with the crook of his elbow to muffle the hacking sound, it was so loud and so bad. The last thing he needed was for Tanaka or Sebastian to hear him coughing like that – he’d be in bed with a thermometer under his tongue and being forced to take foul-tasting remedy syrup before he could even protest. _All right then,_ he thought, _easy does it…_

He took a much smaller drag from the cigarette that time, and did not cough; the smoke he exhaled wasn’t very thick, but he assumed it was merely a matter of getting used to it, and when the next drag he took was a bit longer but still didn’t produce a coughing fit, he figured he’d found the secret. A few puffs later, he was able to hold in the smoke for a moment before exhaling, and a puff after that, he was attempting to blow smoke rings. Another puff or two and he was quite pleased with himself, despite the fact that he was becoming a bit lightheaded; another puff and—

“Young Master! What on earth…?!” Ciel spun around and there stood Sebastian, his arms folded, looking not at all pleased. “What are you doing?!”

“Fishing,” Ciel replied, somewhat snappishly. “Really, Sebastian, what does it _look_ like I’m doing?”

“It _looks_ like you’re smoking a cigarette,” the devil answered, his eyes glinting with hellfire. “I am, however, having difficulty believing that the situation is what it looks to be, because surely you know how foolish it would be for someone who suffers from asthma to smoke.”

“I haven’t had a fit of asthma in _ages_ , Sebastian – stop fretting so, you sound like an old hen squawking.” Ciel took a long drag from the cigarette and blew the smoke in the demon’s direction. “Look, I’m not even coughing.”

“Mm-hm. And how many tries did it take before you finally stopped, pray tell?” The little Earl said nothing, but the way his cheeks flushed with embarrassment told Sebastian everything he needed to know. “That’s what I thought. Give me the cigarette, Young Master.” 

“No,” Ciel said, and took another drag – shorter this time, but only because the ember was getting a little closer to his fingers than he was entirely comfortable with. No wonder Bard never finished the damn things – it was impossible to burn them all the way to the end without burning oneself in the process! 

“Young Master.” Sebastian’s tone was getting more severe. “Leaving out the issue of your asthma, there is still the fact that smoking will make your hair and clothing smell unpleasant, and stains the teeth. It is a bad human habit and a vice, and I cannot allow you to do such an unseemly thing.” He walked closer, and it was all Ciel could do not to back up a step. “Your room already smells of smoke – I could smell it down at the other end of the hall. Give it to me.”

“You’re a demon!” Ciel exclaimed. “You can smell things even a _dog_ couldn’t!”

“Be that as it may, I—“ Sebastian stopped beside the bed, looking down at it, and the boy followed his gaze… to the half-eaten cache of lemon bars still sitting on the handkerchief. “My word, stealing from the kitchens as well?” The devil turned his coal-ember eyes back to Ciel, who was beginning to look a bit nervous. “What _has_ gotten into you tonight? You’re behaving very poorly, Young Master.”

“It’s my manor and my food and I’ll do as I like!” Ciel had the feeling he was treading on thin ice, but he wasn’t about to meekly give in and obey his _butler_ , especially in his own home. “I’m the head of the household!”

“You’re behaving like the _spoiled brat_ of the household,” Sebastian growled, his right eyebrow beginning to twitch with irritation. “I will not tell you again, Young Master – give me the cigarette.”

The little Earl locked eyes with the demon, took a long, deliberate drag from the cigarette, and blew a thick gray cloud of smoke directly into Sebastian’s face.

It happened so quickly Ciel almost didn’t see it: the devil snatched the remainder of the cigarette from him, crushing it out in his gloved fist; he opened his hand over the water glass and dropped the pulverized bits of tobacco and paper into it, then picked up the wooden hairbrush from the bedside table and turned back to the boy, who was just beginning to comprehend what had just happened. “I warned you, Young Master.”

Before he could say or do anything in his defense, Ciel was swept up and carried under Sebastian’s arm like a lap dog, his arms and legs dangling. “Put me down!” he cried, kicking vigorously in an attempt to free himself. “Sebastian!”

The demon sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed and dropped Ciel facedown over his lap, holding the flailing boy in place with a firmly-placed arm. “This sort of childish behavior is unbecoming,” he told Ciel, raising the hairbrush. “It seems only fitting that you be taught this lesson with a childish punishment.”

Horrified, Ciel tried to twist around to look at Sebastian, to attempt to reason with him – but that monstrously powerful arm held him fast, and the best he could do was shout, “No!”

The back of the hairbrush came down on Ciel’s behind with a solid _whack_. “I’m very sorry, Young Master, but you cannot simply do as you please without regard to your health, well-being, and manners.” _Whack._ “If you insist upon behaving like a spoiled brat, then I shall treat you as such.” _Whack. Whack._ “Spoiled brats must be disciplined, or they will never learn to behave properly.” _Whack!_

“Ow! Stop it! This is absolutely—“ _**Whack!**_ “Ahh! Sebastian! Stop!”

“You will never smoke another cigarette.” _Whack!_ “Do you understand, Young Master?”

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Ciel demanded, thumping Sebastian’s leg with a fist and earning himself an extra-hard smack with the hairbrush. “Ow!! You can’t—“ _Whack! Whack!_ “Damn it, Sebastian! I—“ _**Whack!**_ _”Ow!!”_ Humiliated and furious, the boy let fly with a short string of curses so salty it even made the demon raise his eyebrows.

“My, my. Where on earth did you learn such language? Very well, Young Master – it seems a punishment as lenient as this is not going to produce satisfactory results. Therefore…” He took hold of the hem of Ciel’s night-shirt and flipped it up over the boy’s back; Ciel did not wear drawers to bed, and when he felt the rush of air on his bare skin he knew what his butler was up to.

“No! Sebastian, _no!_ You can’t!” The flat of the wooden brush came down again, right across the lower curve of his buttocks; it was incredibly painful, and he jerked so violently in response that if Sebastian hadn’t been holding him still he would likely have fallen off the devil’s lap. _”Sebastian!”_

“You will _not_ ,” Sebastian intoned sternly, punctuating his words with increasingly harder smacks, “smoke – another – cigarette – ever – again.” He paused to let Ciel catch his breath, then asked, “Is that perfectly clear, Young Master?”

Ciel felt like his behind was on fire and his face was very nearly as hot with shame. Turned over his own servant’s knee and spanked like a naughty schoolboy – worse than the pain, the sheer indignity of it galled him to the core. “Sebastian – I—“

_”You – will – **never** – smoke – another – cigarette!”_ Sebastian repeated, delivering a half-dozen stinging blows to Ciel’s reddened rear end and upper thighs. “Now,” he said, pausing again, “have I made myself _perfectly clear_ , Young Master?”

There was a moment’s silence, and just as Sebastian was raising the brush again, Ciel muttered, “Yes.”

“Pardon?” Sebastian asked, although he’d heard the boy perfectly well and they both knew it. “A bit louder, if you please.”

“Yes!” Ciel cried, embarrassed half to death and so sore he doubted he’d sit comfortably for at least a day or two. “Perfectly clear, all right? Yes!”

Sebastian sighed. The boy didn’t seem terribly repentant, and his tone was more desperate than defeated; it was more likely he was sorry he’d been caught, rather than sorry for his misbehavior and foolishness. “Will you ever smoke another cigarette again?”

Ciel considered – would that still apply if he lived long enough to grow into a man? Of course, years and years were nothing to Sebastian, who— _Whack!_ “No, never! Not one! Stop!”

Sebastian set the brush aside and stood, lifting Ciel in his arms; he carried him around to the side of the bed and set him down on the mattress gently, then pulled the duvet up over his little colt-legs, trying not to smile as the boy winced and shifted his weight off of his behind. “Now then… I want you to go directly to sleep,” the demon said, tucking the covers around him.

_Bloody low chance of that happening,_ Ciel thought angrily as he burrowed down into the pillows. _It’ll be damn near miraculous if I even get to sleep at all, as much as my arse hurts._ “Fine.”

“For sneaking food from the kitchens, you will have no sweets tomorrow.” When Ciel looked up with wide-eyed indignance, he added: “And if you do this a second time, you will have no sweets for a full week. Is that understood?”

The boy’s lips pressed together in a thin, angry line. _I’ve been punished enough tonight for **ten** such petty offenses! Why must he be such a—_

“Young Master.” 

Ciel looked away, scowling. “What?”

Sebastian took hold of Ciel's chin and very gently turned the boy’s head to face him again. “Young Master. I am not doing this to be cruel to you.”

“Hmf,” Ciel muttered crossly, “I was certainly fooled, then.”

The devil sat down on the bed and smiled at him very kindly. “Believe me when I say I only have your well-being in mind. It would be very troublesome if you were to have a relapse of asthma because of one foolish decision.”

“Sweets aren’t going to aggravate my asthma.”

Sebastian chuckled and smoothed the boy’s hair back from his flushed face. “That is true. However, you have been told multiple times not to sneak food into your room, and you had a perfectly good bedtime snack not even two hours ago. It is not good for your health to eat too much before you go to bed, and as your butler, your health and well-being are my utmost concern.”

“Haven’t you punished me enough?” Ciel hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but there it was, so he continued, “I shall have to attend all my lessons and appointments tomorrow with a sore… that is, I shan’t be able to sit – isn’t that enough? Must you withhold my sweets as well?”

“I’m afraid you won’t bargain your way out of this one, Young Master,” the devil replied, amused – and rather impressed by the boy’s spirit. “That spanking needn’t have been as severe as it was; it was your stubbornness and rebellion that earned you so many strokes. The withholding of your sweets is the consequence of an entirely different offense.” Ciel opened his mouth, readying a counter-argument, but Sebastian cut him off. “This is not open for debate, Young Master. You will have no sweets tomorrow, and if you persist in this way, you shall have none the next day either. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” the boy mumbled, and Sebastian stroked his head, smiling.

“Very good.” The butler stood, then picked up the water glass from the bedside table. “I shall replace this with fresh water, so you shall have it if you awaken thirsty overnight.” Ciel nodded, and Sebastian took the handkerchief of lemon bars as well. “I’m confiscating this.”

“Fine,” the Earl grumbled, and rolled over.

Sebastian couldn’t help but chuckle. “Good night, Young Master.”

A short time later, Ciel heard the door open, then the sound of the glass being put down; after the door had closed again and the butler’s footsteps had retreated, he turned over and was about to reach for the glass when he noticed a small card and a bread plate sitting beside it – and on the plate was the lemon square he hadn’t finished. Blinking with surprise, Ciel picked up the card and read it, and in Sebastian’s flowing, impeccable handwriting were the words: _Young Master, I cannot serve half-eaten food to anyone else, and it would be wasteful to throw it away; therefore you may do with this as you wish. - Sebastian._

Ciel stared at the card for a long time, then slipped it under his pillow with a half-smile; he finished off the lemon square, snuggled down into his bed again, and despite his previous worries – and his smarting behind – fell asleep.

END.


End file.
